Worn Crosses and Secret Keepers
by Haitus80
Summary: Daryl tries to come to terms with the loss of his brother and, of course, it is a journey he strongly believes he should walk alone. But when she finds him there, next to her own grave, her kindness guides him out of the dark. Sometimes, in mourning, we see things in a different light. It doesn't have to be understood right away to be real.


**I woke up out of a dead sleep with this idea in my head and I had no choice at all but to get up and write it, even though I am in the middle of a very long story. I know that this has probably been done a thousand times by now but I was furious over the writers of the show not digging deeper when it came to Daryl's grief over losing his brother. So I did it myself. I hope you all enjoy this. It's my first time with a one shot! So, let me know what you think! **

**I do not own the Walking Dead or it's characters! I simply borrow them! =) **

Worn Crosses and Secret Keepers

He found himself once again sitting beside her grave, skimming his hand over the grass that had grown over the raw earth. New life sprouting up from a desolate place. The grave was empty. Simply a grim reminder of a moment he needed to not forget. He faced the empty grave bravely now as the one behind him taunted him bitterly, much like the man that now rested there had in life. Why he had laid his brother there next to the place that seemed to be his only solace was beyond him. He could have buried him anywhere else. Instead he had chosen to put him next to her.

Not that she was really there at all. But she was, in a way. In his own twisted head a part of her would always be there. The ghost of her had become the keeper of his secrets, resting peacefully under a rugged cross. He came to this spot often, usually in the dark where no one would see him there. No one would ask questions. The empty grave pulled him there, reminding him that loss was real. Death was close. Love, although solid inside him, heavy as stone, was fleeting. This was where he came when he felt like there was nothing left in the world. This was where he came when the weight of his losses came crashing around him. He came here to tell her things he could never tell her otherwise. But he had ruined it by lowering his brother into the very spot he had claimed for himself. This small place that had held so much peace, now held nothing. Her ghost was gone and now he was alone.

He should have turned around. He should have been able to tell Merle now all those things that he had never been able to tell him before. Things that would have made the man scoff in life. Maybe Merle would have been more accepting in death. But Daryl couldn't turn. Couldn't face the man still. He was trapped between them, once again. Her spot reminding him over and over that he had not failed. Reminding him that the grave was still empty because of _him. _Reminding him that not everything in this world was ugly. Mocking.

But the other grave? That reminded him, once again, that he was alone. Adrift. Abandoned.

A fresh wave of pain had his breath catching and he couldn't stop the small sound that escaped his lips. He was on his knees, back turned to his brother. He rubbed the palms of his hands roughly on his pants and then turned them over, staring at them until his vision blurred. They were calloused, rough, strong, capable, and always unable to hold on to the things that mattered. Always letting things slip away.

He blinked back the moisture. He had no right to mourn the man. He wasn't strong enough to look at the grave so he would swallow his pain. He would hold on to it. What right did he have to let it go? He should have never came here. This place wasn't his anymore. It was barely dusk so anyone could see him now.

"You know, if you wanted to hang out, you only had to ask. The live version of myself has much more to say."

He froze. Why had he come here? Why had she had to find him? He was angry at first but he couldn't hold onto it. His tense shoulders shrugged half heartedly, his voice trapped somewhere inside the pain in his chest. This was something he wanted to face alone. This was something that no one needed to see. Yet her hesitant footsteps came closer and he couldn't force any words through the lump in his throat.

She came around so she was standing directly in front of him, just a few feet away and then she dropped to her knees so they were at eye level. His eyes flicked up and met hers, just long enough for her to see what she needed to see. She swallowed hard and her face softened. He looked away, back down to the grass.

"You don't have to do this alone. It's only me." She whispered.

His eyes met hers again, clear and blue, until they somehow morphed into the dead cold eyes that had met his when that Walker had raised it's head.

Merle.

The sob that escaped him when he tore his gaze away from hers actually startled him and although he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head back and forth the eyes of his dead brother still lingered in his mind, causing his chest to tighten painfully and his heart to pound wildly. He had to stop thinking about it. Couldn't let it take hold. Not in front of her. Not when anyone else could stumble along and see him.

He felt her hands on his shoulders and his eyes snapped open as he tried to pull away but for the moment she was stronger than he was and she pulled him forward, locking her arms around his neck so he couldn't get away. He was tired of trying anymore. Already tired of fighting the hurt so he gave up. It wasn't something he normally would have let himself do, but like he had realized before she had came, her ghost was gone and he needed her like he had never needed anything in his life. The one person who could understand. The one person that would let him do this without the least bit of judgment.

He thought he had gotten it all out of him earlier. Right after he had put his brother down. A real breakdown. But that had just been the start. The dam had broken, much like his heart when he saw his brother like that, and he couldn't hold it all in. He was crying like a child but he didn't know how to stop, wasn't strong enough to stop.

She didn't say anything to him. She didn't tell him that everything would be okay. She didn't try to make him feel better. She was just there, solid and alive and willing to share this pain with him, a pain she knew all too well. His head, that he had buried into her chest, now fell into her lap and still she said nothing. Soft hands running through his hair as he let go and cried, his face pressed firmly into her legs as his shoulders shook uncontrollably.

Her silence and her gentle touch were surprisingly comforting. He didn't feel so alone in his grief. Her fingers combing lazily through his hair was a soothing thing. Much more than any empty words she could have offered. He didn't feel ashamed which was shocking to him. So he let himself remember things he had spent the day trying to fight. Him and Merle when they were young and wild and always in trouble. That grin that Merle would get when he knew he was really getting under his skin. The beatings they had bonded over. Merle coming at him, blood and tissue still stuck to his lips as he snarled and lunged at him.

He remembered every possible thing he could remember about his brother as he sobbed into her legs and she stroked his hair and waited for him to come back to her. His grief poured out of him even more viciously than it had right after he had plunged that knife into his brothers face. He was purging himself of all of it while she was there to hold him together. It wasn't a promise that she would be there tomorrow. But she was here now and he clung to her like a child. He was shamelessly open with his pain now. And it was a part of him that only she could touch.

Eventually he ran himself dry. He remembered until each memory dredged up didn't hurt as bad, his shoulders stilled, breathing became easier. He turned his head slowly, resting the side of his face against her thigh that was now soaked through with tears he had tried so hard at first to fight. When he opened his eyes it was dark. He didn't know how long he had been there. He was so tired, like he'd cried out every bit of strength he had left. When he felt her hand on the side of his face he closed them once more as she wiped the rest of the moisture away, then just rested her hand there on the side of his face as her thumb traced back and forth against his brow bone while her other hand stayed in his hair. It felt good. Better than good. He didn't feel lost anymore. He felt lighter than he ever had. It was as though the pain of losing his bother wasn't the only thing that he had mourned, but everything he had stubbornly held tight to him. And still, she waited without a word.

He blew out a heavy breath and then pushed himself up and away from her touch. He was afraid to look at her. They just stayed like that for another long moment, on their knees, facing each other, his head hung slightly as he stared at his hands that were pressed into his thighs. He found his voice, even though it was just a low rasp. "We gotta go before somebody comes nosin' around."

"Okay." She said quietly.

He finally looked up at her, not able to make out much of her features in the dark but what he could he was thankful for. She met his eyes unflinchingly. Didn't avert her gaze in pity for him. He nodded and stood up, rolling his shoulders as he stared down at her waiting for her to get up. He frowned.

"Carol?" He asked quietly, voice still not his own.

She looked up then, a half smile on her face. She shook her head. "Daryl, I can't." She whispered.

His frown deepened. "What? Why can't you?"

She sighed and looked down. "I can't feel my legs." She said, sounding almost embarrassed.

Now it was him trying to fight back a small smile. The poor thing had sat there like that, on her knees with her feet tucked under her, for a long time. "Do ya need help?"

She bit her lip. "I think I really do. I can't even move my toes."

He rolled his eyes. "Jesus, woman." He whispered. He took her hands that she offered him and tried to lift her off the ground. "A little help, Carol." He grumbled when she didn't budge.

She laughed. A real one that actually shook her small frame. When she looked back up she was beaming at him, that smile that made his knees weak and had been for quite some time now. "I'm so sorry. Really, I can't feel anything from the waist down. We've been here for hours."

"You're serious, ain'tcha. You're really stuck like that?" He sounded more himself.

She nodded and then looked at the ground. She really was embarrassed.

"Good thing we got strong fences." He muttered as he turned to walk away towards the prison. Just to get a rise out of her.

"Daryl!" She hissed. "Don't you dare leave me here."

He turned around, cocking his head to the side. He glanced at Merle's grave. Sadness, but no pain. Not right now, anyway. He owed her.

He stomped back over to her, grabbed her under her arms and lifted her off the ground until she was standing, shakily. "There." He said with a nod as he pulled his hands away.

She stood perfectly still, watching him sheepishly. "If I try to walk then I'll end up on my face." She grimaced, "Oh God!" She sucked in a breath, almost causing him to panic, she looked like she'd just been shot.

"What!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and peered down at her face.

"It hurts!" She growled.

"What hurts?" He asked as he looked her over frantically.

She rolled her eyes. "They're tingling. Like, painfully. The blood's rushing back and it _hurts_!" She hissed.

Well damn. He really just wanted to get inside and go to sleep. He wasn't even sure if there would be a place to sleep at all with all those people that were there now. "Well fuck, Carol." He grumbled.

"It isn't my fault." She cried as she tried to pick up one foot and then hissed when she sat it back down.

"Here." He growled as he dropped back down to his knees in front of her.

"OUCH!" She nearly yelled as he grabbed her calve and started kneading the muscle there. "That makes it worse." She hissed as she grabbed his shoulders.

"Quit whinin'. It'll get your blood flowin' faster."

He moved up to her thighs and when he glanced up she was squeezing her eyes shut and chewing her lower lip. "Oh, God, I swear I've never felt anything like this before in my life." She groaned.

They heard someone giggle and Carols eyes snapped open just as Daryl jerked his hands away from her legs and pulled back. Her hands were still gripping his shoulders and when he jerked back she must have lost her balance, or her legs gave out completely because suddenly she was falling towards him and all he could do was try to catch her. She landed on top of him, his arms reflexively wrapping around her waist as he landed on his back.

Son of a bitch.

Now the giggling was joined by a mans laughter. Great. It was Glen and Maggie.

"Rick sent us out to look for you two." Maggie said with a grin.

"We didn't mean to interrupt." Glen laughed as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Daryl glared at them. "Her legs were tinglin' you jackass."

Glen held up his hands. "Hey, good for you, man. I don't need to know details though."

Maggie giggled again.

Daryl could feel the heat in his face. "That ain't what I meant. I was just tryin' to get her blood flowin'... Fuck, never mind. Tell him we'll be in in a minute."

Glen and Maggie walked away, still laughing.

He sighed and let his head fall back onto the grass. "Well this is just fuckin' great. You know the whole prison is gonna be runnin' their mouths about this one."

Carol just shook her head and peered down at him. "I don't think so. Glen and Maggie wont tell on us." She winked, causing him to let out a small laugh. "Besides, I have a date tomorrow, so I'm sure if they did tell, they would stop talking about it after that."

He froze as his arms tightened around her and his insides twisted painfully. What the fuck was she talking about? After what had just happened out here she was just going to go run off with some other guy. On a _date_? But it wasn't any of his business. He didn't have a claim on her. He had no reason to feel like he could put his fist through a wall or through the face of whatever piece of shit had moved in on her this fast. She wasn't his.

"Daryl?" She asked as her smile fell away and she frowned down at him. "What's wrong?"

"What the fuck kinda date are you talkin' about?" He growled.

The corner of her mouth turned up. "It isn't really a date. Tyreese asked me to partner with him on watch tomorrow and then take a walk after that. Not much actual dating you can do around here, so it was close enough."

Now he understood. He'd barely noticed the big guy following her around all day. He was polite, soft spoken, offered to help her with mundane things and kept her laughing. The guy was all the things he wasn't. He should have known this was going to happen eventually, with all these new people here. Of course someone would grab her up as quick as they could. She was fucking perfect. And his dumb ass just always thought she would be there. Be there for him.

"Can you walk now?" He said gruffly.

She squirmed a little and then stood up, still shaky but determined. He joined her, keeping her slow pace as she hissed and complained through the pain that was still there.

He was furious on the inside but he tried hard to keep it off his face. After everything he had been through the last thing he needed was to watch her slip away. She was the only person he truly trusted, the person that had been there from the beginning. He was too stupid to let her know how he felt. Instead of telling her he had slunk off into the shadows after the fear of rejection had him stumbling over his words. So it wasn't her fault. It was his.

Right before she climbed the steps leading to the door to their cell block he grabbed her hand, causing her to turn and peer up at him questioningly. There were a million things he wanted to say. Things she needed to hear.

"Thanks." was the only word that would come out. And his stupid ass couldn't even elaborate. Thanks for not letting me shut you out. Thanks for not giving up. Thanks for staying alive long enough for me to find you. Thanks for not letting me push you away. Thanks for being my rock when I fall apart. Tyreese would be able to tell her these things.

She smiled and put her hand on his arm. "Don't thank me yet. You're probably going to be furious? I came out earlier to tell you..."

He felt his pulse quicken. What could she have to tell him that would make him furious?

She sighed and dropped her hand. "We all have to bunk together for now since there's so many people."

Great. She was about to tell him that her and Tyreese were already going to be sleeping together. He felt like he was going to puke just thinking about it. Why was she going to tell him this? Was she that fucking clueless?

"I put your stuff in my cell." She said quickly and then looked as though she was bracing herself for a fit.

His relief had to have been written all over his face. She'd chose him. This was a good thing. She wasn't bunking with some other guy, she had grabbed _his_ shit and moved it into _her_ cell. He should have left it at that but his thoughts slipped out before he could stop them. "Why the hell didn't you just bunk with your new boyfriend?"

He winced as he saw a trace of hurt cross her eyes but she stilled herself, probably used to it by now, he thought.

She replaced it with a stiff smile. "He isn't my boyfriend. And I don't want to share my cell with anybody unless it's you. You and I are the odd men out in this family. Always have been. I intend to keep it that way. I kind of like it. Now, if you're done being a jerk, can we please go to bed. This has been a really bad day. Unless you want to move your stuff out. I know how you are." She gave him a dry look.

Before he could stop himself he grinned. A real one. His face felt strange, like it wasn't used to using those muscles. She blinked a few times and stared at him, her expression unreadable.

"Jesus Christ, Daryl Dixon. That's probably one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life." She sounded a little stunned, no trace of humor marred her words.

His first reaction was to blush. Of course, since he was a grown fucking man. And then he wanted to scoff at her. And then suddenly he had the overwhelming urge to kiss her. He had never really thought about that before. She meant to much to him to fuck it up by scaring her off with crazy shit like that.

"And of course my big mouth had to go and chase it away." She said it as though she were talking to herself instead of to him. Which made the words she said give him a strange sensation in his chest. The way she was looking at him, like she hadn't ever really looked at him before, made him want to bolt. What was she seeing now that she never had before? And why the fuck was he holding his breath?

The door opened, breaking whatever spell the moment held. "There you guys are. We were all about to call it a night." Rick said as he studied them. His eyes settled on Daryl. "You alright?" He asked with genuine concern.

He nodded and then Rick went back in.

Her eyes met his once more before she turned around and headed up the steps. He followed her into the cell block. There were still quite a few people up milling around. He would never get used to this. All these people would never be _his_ people. But he would endure it. Tyreese smiled at them when they made their way towards her cell. He made it a point to glare at the asshole. It didn't seem to faze the man. His eyes were on Carol. He thought about maybe shooting him. Claim temporary insanity brought on by the stress. But then he thought better of it. Carol would probably be pissed and kick him out of her room before he ever even had a chance to sleep in it.

Most of the cells had sheets hung up for privacy and Carols cell was no exception. His mind went straight to her, and then the cot and then he swallowed hard and forced those thoughts out of his mind. He hadn't thought about things like that. He needed her. She was the most important person in his life now. Especially now. Why the hell was he thinking about _that_?

She lit a candle that was close to the bed while he stood there in the middle of the small space, not sure what to do anymore. She smiled when she turned to face him. "You gonna shut the door?"

He swallowed and nodded. When the door was shut he turned back around and she was staring at him, a small frown on her brow.

"Are you sure you don't mind, Daryl? I can bunk with someone else."

He shook his head. "Odd men out, right?" He muttered as he tried to keep his eyes on hers instead of her lips that he had never really noticed before. Jesus, he was in so much trouble.

"You want me to get on top?" She asked quietly, searching his face.

He swallowed hard. "What?" The word came out as a choked whisper. Was she fucking serious?

"I figured you would want the bottom bunk." She clarified.

"Oh, yeah." He nodded feeling his face flush.

She nodded. "Alright then, turn around."

Now he was frowning. "Why?"

She held up her hands that were filled with clothes. "I'm not sleeping in my clothes. Turn around."

He nodded and then faced the door. He felt like he could _hear_ the clothes sliding across her skin. This wasn't going to work. This wasn't going to work at all. He was an emotional wreck and it was causing him to feel all kinds of crazy shit that he didn't want to feel. Not about her. He couldn't think about _her _like that. Fuck, he never thought about _anybody_ like that.

"Damn it!" She hissed and he spun around.

He froze. She wasn't wearing anything but a shirt. It was big on her, long. It went down to about mid thigh and pretty much covered everything. But that wasn't good enough. She wasn't looking at him so he stared at her like a freak for as long as he could and then he realized something.

"Is that mine?" He asked.

She looked up and then noticed what he was staring at. Her face turned so red that even in the dim light of one candle he could see it. Then she raised her chin and eyed him. "Yeah. It was yours. It was in with some other stuff when I did the laundry after you left. I..." She took a deep breath, "I missed you." She shrugged. "So I started sleeping in it. I wasn't thinking about it, so you caught me."

He just nodded. There wasn't anything he could say about that. He didn't let himself even try to analyze what that could mean. Then he remembered what had caused him to turn around to begin with. "What were cussin' about?" he asked as he studied the frown on her face.

"They took it." She growled.

"Took what?"

She pointed to the top bunk. There was nothing there. "Somebody stole your mattress?" He almost laughed until he realized that this meant there would be no bunking with her now. At least no one else would be bunking with her either. He just shrugged. "Guess I'm gonna have to find myself another room."

She scowled and put her hands on her hips. After a few seconds she pointed to the bottom bunk. "Get in." She said firmly.

He shook his head, panic setting in.

"Daryl, there isn't anywhere to sleep. Not yet. We have to clear out another cell block. You can either sleep with me or sleep on the concrete."

This was not happening. Not tonight. Not when he was thinking all this fucked up stuff about her. Not when she'd be sleeping right there wearing nothing but a shirt. _His_ shirt. That she had slept in because she missed _him._ That was too much. "I'm a big boy. I can sleep on the floor."

Her gaze hardened. "Does the idea of sleeping in a bed with me make you so sick that you'd rather sleep on the damn floor?"

He snorted to cover up his nervousness. "That ain't true."

"Then what's the problem?" She was glaring now.

Shit.

"Fine. Turn around." He growled.

She did, but not before he caught the smile on her lips. How could he miss it when that was the only thing he could focus on?

He took off his belt, kicked off his boots and then gave her the okay.

She laughed when she turned around. "Such modesty." She noted dryly. "Now, get in."

He did as she said, not wanting to argue with her and not wanting her to think that he just didn't want to share. He'd just make sure to keep as far away from her as he could. He put his back to the cold wall as she slid in next to him. Any thought of him keeping his distance flew out the window when she pressed herself right up against him. The bed was too small. He could feel her bare leg rubbing his through his pants. Her face was to close to his too but he was already pressed against the wall and there was no where to go.

She must have seen the panic on his face because she put her hand on his chest and pretty much forced him to meet her eyes. "It's only me." She whispered.

It was the same thing that she had said to him outside next to her grave. And it worked. He relaxed slightly. She didn't move her hand from his chest. Her gaze slid down from his eyes and then narrowed when she saw something that caused her to frown. She moved her hand until the tip of her finger touched a spot in the center of his chest.

When he realized what the was touching he grabbed her wrist and glared. She didn't pull away though. Her eyes flicked back up and met his and she bit her lip. He let go of her wrist but he held her eyes fiercely. Keeping that warning on his face. There was a lot he would share with her. But his scars were his. Not even his own brother had known they were there.

She held his eyes and then rolled over onto her back. He thought maybe he had pissed her off. But he didn't have anything to say. He wouldn't tell her he was sorry. Some things he just couldn't share. Even with her.

She stared up at the bunk above them for a few minutes. He watched her as she struggled with some inner battle. He could see the fight clear on her face even though shadows danced around from the candles small flame. He watched as her eyes went calm and her mouth set stubbornly.

She pushed the thin blanket down and then her fingers went to the bottom button on the shirt.

He raised up on his elbow and glared at her. What the _fuck_ was she doing? He kept his eyes on her face but her eyes stayed aimed straight ahead. He couldn't help himself. His eyes slid from her face down to her small hands as they worked the buttons and then, right before she reached the fourth to the last one, her fingers stilled and the shirt fell open, keeping her chest covered but exposing her from waist to sternum. He held his breath as he took her in. Her skin was so pale it nearly glowed, smooth and flawless for the most part. But what really had his head reeling was the long angry gashes that marred that pale skin. There were two scars that ran diagonally across her stomach, those two were the worst. But they weren't the only ones there. There were others. One curved around her hip and disappeared as it traveled to her back. He was sure if she rolled over it would continue on its wicked path.

So she had her own secrets. Everyone knew about her life before but nobody had guessed it had been anything like this.

The scars varied in texture and color. The two largest ones were raised, pink, telling stories that he didn't want to know about. But he couldn't look away. He didn't want too. He knew what she was doing. And he didn't know how to accept it. For someone like him, and now, he knew, someone like her, this was about the most intimate thing in the world. This went beyond anything physical that two people could share. This was much more than that. Anybody could share their bodies. Anyone could express pain with another person. But it was something so much more to show someone something like this.

His hand was shaking badly when he raised it. As lightly as he could he touched the largest scar and traced it slowly. He didn't say anything. There wasn't anything that could be said. Not about this. He took note of every single rise and fall of the uneven evidence of the violence she endured and he filed it away in his mind. He wouldn't forget. If she never showed him this again, it wouldn't matter. He would remember. They made her who she was and in some strange intangible way, they made her his.

When the rise and fall of her chest picked up speed he looked back at her face but kept the steady exploration of her scars. She looked scared. He didn't blame her. There were tears in her eyes but they didn't spill. She wouldn't look at him.

He looked back down. He took his time, slowly tracing every single scar, saving the one that started at her hip bone for last. When he reached the spot where he could no longer see it she rolled over onto her stomach. He lifted the back of the shirt up, she moved until he could get it up as far as it would go. This was worse. Much worse than the front. This was even worse than his own.

Her face was turned away from him. Her arms folded above her head. He traced these just like the other ones. Slowly, carefully, and as gently as he had ever touched anything in his life. Eventually though he stopped touching the scars and just started touching her. His fingers grazing random patterns into her back, studying her so he wouldn't have to worry about forgetting what she looked like this way.

Eventually she turned her head so she could look at him and he stilled his hand, lying it flat against the small of her back, fingers almost burning to continue. She gave him one of those half smiles and then wiped her eyes. His were locked on hers as she sat up, facing him, an unspoken question on her face.

He didn't hesitate. Not anymore. He laid down and shifted so he was flat on his back, arms folded under his head. Her fingers had his shirt open quickly and now he knew why she hadn't looked at him the whole time. He was so afraid that he would see disgust on her face that he was doing the same thing she had done and kept his eyes on the bunk above him.

He didn't move until he actually felt her lips touch his skin, the scar that ran down the center of his chest seemed to throb as his heart began to pound under her palm. She moved so he was now under her and her lips kept trailing the scar until it ended high up on his chest and then she raised up, but not before she snaked her hand around the back of his neck so he would raise with her. He unlocked his hands from behind his head when she pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

Now he wasn't sure what to do. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, with her straddling him, her body pressed against his in a way that had his heart racing and his head spinning. There faces were only inches apart and there was no avoiding her wide blue eyes now. He kept his locked on them, hoping she knew where this was going because at this point he was too scared to even move.

She moved his arms back up until they were once again locked behind his head. She slipped her arms around him until her soft hands were running over the raised skin that no one else had ever touched before. He watched as her eyes filled up once more, knowing the pain he had known, and finally he cupped her face in his rough hands, catching tears on the pads of his thumbs. Without thinking he pulled her face to his and brushed his lips over hers, hoping it was okay.

Her hands moved away from his back and wrapped around his neck then, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth right before she kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her then and pulled her closer until there was no space between them. She kissed him slowly, lightly waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do. So he traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. That was all the invitation she needed. Her lips parted, allowing him the access he craved. He kissed her just as slowly as she had kissed him, savoring every second, praying silently that she wouldn't change her mind and make him stop. But she didn't. She returned it with fervor, exploring him as much as he was her but so slowly, still, he was half dizzy.

He wasn't even aware of where his hands were traveling until his fingers were grazing the bottom swell of her breasts. He hadn't known his hands had even opened the shirt back up. But she made a small sound when he touched her that sent a jolt through him that had him turning until she was on her back and he was right on top of her. But he still wasn't sure if this was what she wanted. He broke their kiss and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and looked half glazed.

"Is this alright?" He whispered.

She nodded and watched him as he undid those last few buttons of the shirt she was wearing. She bit her bottom lip again and watched him, fear in her eyes until the shirt fell open all the way and he could see everything.

"Jesus Christ, woman. You're killin' me." He breathed when he met her eyes again.

She relaxed then and pulled his face back down, kissing him a little harder this time as his calloused hand went for her breast greedily. She moaned low in her throat. When he felt her moving under him he jerked his mouth away and trailed his lips down to her neck. Her pulse throbbed as his tongue tasted her skin.

"You sure bout this?" he whispered. He was in so much trouble if her answer was no.

"I've been sure about this for a long time, Daryl." She breathed as she dug her nails into his back.

He raised up and stared at her. "You have?"

She shook her head. "Yes. I have." She grabbed his head and pulled him back down.

He hadn't known she had wanted him. It was news to him. God, where had she learned to kiss like that? Her hands slipped from his back to his waist and then she was tugging at the button of his pants. He raised up a little, his breath coming out in a rush as he pulled away from her again. He raised up onto his knees and ripped off the flimsy panties she was wearing, tossing them over his shoulder before returning to her mouth.

She made a frustrated sound against his lips and then she actually used her feet to slide his pants down, he grinned against her mouth and then she pulled away abruptly to look at him. Her face lit up, when she saw the smile on his face.

"You should do that more often." She whispered.

"Then we should do this more often." He countered before kicking his pants the rest of the way off and settling against her once more.

Her eyes widened when she felt him press against her. She slipped her hand between them and ran it down the length of him. "Oh this is going to be good." She breathed, her eyes widening.

He groaned at the feel of her hand on him and he jerked it back up, twining his fingers through hers and locking the invading hand in place next to her head on the pillow. "Don't count on it. This ain't gonna take but a minute. It's been a long time, you keep doin' that and it wont even take that long." He growled.

"I have faith in you, Dixon. You have inhuman self control."

He chuckled and then nipped her neck as he let go of her hand and let his own slide down her side. When he was finally touching her she made a strangled sound and then locked one arm around his neck. Just in case he found himself all out of super self control he wouldn't leave her completely dissatisfied. He groaned into her neck. She was already soaked.

His fingers moved over her in a quick rhythm that had her gasping into his mouth. He could feel the muscles in her thighs twitching and as soon as she gave the first indication that she was close he finally shifted and slowly pushed himself into her while his finger picked up the pace and as soon as he was all the way inside she was tightening up around him and covering her mouth with her hand to keep quiet. He had to stop moving. If he moved then it was over, he'd be lucky if he could even manage to hold on while her muscles clamped around him and the heat from her threatened to kill him as she came.

Finally she stilled, he had maintained a decent amount of control so he removed his hand from between them and started moving inside her. He cursed her for a few agonizing minutes when he realized that it wasn't just the orgasm that had her gripping him like that, making this harder than it had to be for him to keep that control, but it was just her. He'd never had a woman that felt so good. He moved slowly, afraid that if he didn't then it would end and it felt to fucking good for it to be over quick, so she matched his slow pace and to his surprise, it wasn't long before he felt her reach that edge again. Knowing that there was no use in acting like he'd be able to hold back through another one of those he moved quicker, bringing her there that much faster. Her hand went to her mouth again and as soon as he felt the first wave hit her he let go, letting her drain him as she came again. He bit into the pillow next to her head, the only sounds that were audible were a few strangled growls as she squeezed him dry from the inside.

After a few minutes he spit out the pillow and lifted himself off of her torso, bracing himself on his arms. She reached up and pushed his hair back as he slid out of her slowly and then rolled off of her unto his back.

As soon as she pulled the blanket up the candled fizzled out and the cell was plunged into darkness. They both laughed quietly at the timing. He couldn't really believe that any of it had happened at all. He was glad that it had. He had always had a strange claim on her but he never thought that they would be like this. Now he just had to hope that she didn't regret it.

He rolled over, facing her and putting his back against the cold wall again. His hissed and adjusted the blanket so the cold brick wasn't touching his skin. She was so quiet that he wouldn't have known she was there if it wasn't for the faintest brush of her skin against his. What was she thinking? That they had messed up and ruined whatever it was they had had? God, he needed to say something. But he didn't know what to say. Usually he never had to say a word to her. They each just kind of knew what was going on with the other.

"Daryl?" She whispered.

Here it was. She was going to tell him that it had been a huge mistake and he should take his sorry ass somewhere else to sleep. "Yeah?" He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.

"You're okay with this, right? You didn't just..." She cleared her throat, "You didn't just do this because you felt sorry for me, did you? Because of what I showed you?"

He didn't want her to feel like that but he was damn glad she did. She wasn't regretting it at all, she was afraid that he had just given her a pity fuck. He reached out and pulled her against him. Her back was to him so he reached around and locked his arm around her waist and then kissed the back of her neck lightly. "Fuck no. You should know better than that." He muttered, knowing his own doubts had just been assaulting his brain.

She let out a relieved breath and then settled back against him. "Good, cause we need to do that more often." She whispered and then laughed quietly.

"Keep squirmin' around like that and it'll happen again sooner than ya think." he said into her shoulder.

That only caused her to squirm around more. He laughed and then it died on his lips as he remembered something. She must have felt him tense because she turned her head. "What's wrong?"

He grazed his teeth against her shoulder and glared in the dark. "First thing in the mornin' you best tell that big bastard that your dates off." he growled.

She laughed, settling in further against him, the lock he had around her waist was like a vice and he didn't plan on loosening it. Ever.

"I will." She yawned.

He relaxed once more and let exhaustion take him over. He didn't want to fight it anymore. Tomorrow was going to be a new day. And for once, as he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her, that thought didn't bother him. It didn't fill him with dread. Tomorrow was going to be different because he knew that no matter what kind of shit happened, she'd be there to make it better.

Maybe he'd even go talk to Merle. The thought stung but it didn't crush him. She'd be there and he'd be just fine.


End file.
